


Fear and Loathing

by sbdrag



Series: Medicine and Lies [3]
Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Dates gone wrong, Developing Relationship, First Date, Fluff, M/M, OC
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-20
Updated: 2016-08-19
Packaged: 2018-08-09 21:22:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7817797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sbdrag/pseuds/sbdrag
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Continuation from "The Delicate Nature of Attraction", exploring how the series might have been different with Garak and Julian in a relationship. Starts after S4E14 "Return to Grace".</p>
<p>
  <i>Garak was slow to trust - Julian knew that better than most of the station could guess. And here, on the station, where he had so few friends and compatriots, it was no wonder. He cared for Julian - the doctor had known that since the aftermath of the implant. But caring for someone as a friend and starting a relationship with someone… well, they were very different things. Julian was going to have to prove himself to the Cardassian all over again - prove he was worthy of that kind of trust. That when he said he wanted a relationship, he really meant it - that this wasn’t a passing fancy or an interesting experiment.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Julian took a deep breath. He only hoped he was up to the task.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fear and Loathing

**Author's Note:**

> The title of the work is based of the Marina and the Diamonds song of the same name, because I feel like the song could apply to either/both Julian and/or Garak. Also, fair warning, there will be angst at some point - mainly because I can't see these two having an easy relationship. A deep, lasting relationship? Yes. Easy? No.
> 
> The title of this chapter, however, is from the Florence + the Machine song of the same name. It's more inspired than based on the song, because I tried to capture the feeling of the song more than what the lyrics said explicitly. I was stuck, but this idea of having them go on an official first date came to me when I was listening to music for inspiration. 
> 
> (Marina and the Diamonds and Florence + the Machine often give my Garashir ideas, but if you have song recs, feel free to list them - they might end up as a chapter title.)

Julian took extra care to style his hair, making sure it seemed to naturally swoop backwards - rather than an obvious lick, in any case. His date was sure to know it was an effect, they  _ had _ had lunch once a week for the past three years. Still, the effort was important - Garak needed to know that Julian was taking this seriously, and the doctor was going to prove it. 

 

If it meant styling his hair and letting Jadzia be in charge of his wardrobe, it was a small price to pay.

 

Julian smiled at himself in the mirror. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d put so much effort into a date - well, no, that was a lie. With his near eidetic memory, he knew exactly when the last time was - the date he had broken up with Pallis. 

 

He watched his doppleganger deflate slightly in the mirror. It wasn’t a pleasant memory - using the excuse that he was a Starfleet officer and didn’t think it was fair to her to maintain their relationship had been almost painful. He’d thought he’d been in love with her. In a way, he had - but in hindsight, he could see it had been a very young sort of love. His first love, before he really understood what it meant to really love someone - an untested, untried kind of love that was fragile, tenuous spider strings loosely wrapped around them. Maybe he could have loved Pallis, given time - but he somehow doubted it. She had been perfect - kind, gentle, attentive, beautiful, witty - but when he had said he was breaking things off and she had been relieved (ostensibly due to her dancing career)... well, he had realized that perhaps her feelings for him hadn’t been quite as strong. 

 

The doctor squared his shoulders, shaking his head as if to shake off the memories. He knew that what he had with Garak - what he was trying to build, was just as tenuous as his relationship with Pallis had been. But in this case, it was for entirely different reasons.

 

Garak was slow to trust - Julian knew that better than most of the station could guess. And here, on the station, where he had so few friends and compatriots, it was no wonder. He cared for Julian - the doctor had known that since the aftermath of the implant. But caring for someone as a friend and starting a relationship with someone… well, they were very different things. Julian was going to have to prove himself to the Cardassian all over again - prove he was worthy of that kind of trust. That when he said he wanted a relationship, he  _ really _ meant it - that this wasn’t a passing fancy or an interesting experiment.

 

Julian took a deep breath. He only hoped he was up to the task.

 

There was a pounding on the door to his washroom. 

 

“Julian, come on! You’re taking as long as  _ girl _ !” 

 

The doctor smiled at Jadzia’s teasing, giving himself one more appraising look before leaving the room to enter the larger area of his quarters. “If I’m not mistaken, Jadzia,  _ you _ are a girl.”

 

“Yes, but I have the hair to  _ need _ the extra time.” The Trill looked him over with a smile, then nodded. “You clean up well.”

 

“Thanks.” He scratched at the back of his neck, suddenly nervous. “You don’t think -”

 

Jadzia rolled her eyes. “Whatever it is, forget it. You two have been mooning over each other long enough -” She arched her brows, “- _ more _ than long enough - start  _ dating _ already.”

 

Julian snorted. “Yes, I know, but I just want it to be perfect.”

 

The Trill smiled, shaking her head. “Ah, the elusive ‘perfect first date’. I’ve been on a lot of first dates, Julian - trust me, the date doesn’t have to be perfect to be perfect.”

 

The doctor frowned, arching a brow. “I’m afraid I don’t follow.”

 

Jadzia put a hand on his arm - warmly reassuring. “It’ll be perfect because you’re together, not because everything goes according to some kind of plan.”

 

Julian smiled. “I know, I just….” He spread his hands apart a little helplessly. “I  _ want _ it to be perfect. Garak deserves that.”

 

Jadzia’s smile softened, giving the muscle under her hand a gentle squeeze. “Trust me, it’ll be perfect - even if it isn’t. The fact that you  _ want  _  it to be perfect is the important part.”

 

The doctor sighed, but smiled a little. “I’ll try to keep that in mind.”

 

The Trill chuckled and gave his arm a soft swat, turning away. “You’d better - now come on, or you’re going to be late and it’ll ruin everything.”

 

Julian snorted as he started to follow her - then frowned and started walking faster. 

 

“I was kidding!” Jadzia laughed. 

 

* * *

 

He wasn’t going. It was as simple as that. Agreeing to this had been a foolish mistake - if he went, he would simply look like a pathetic old man trying to keep up with a younger partner that was likely only there out of pity.  _ Look at Garak, at how lonely he seems - I’ll bet I could brighten his day by giving him some more company. _ Yes, it was just like Julian to put the needs of others before his own, of course - and this was just more well meaning but misplaced concern.

 

Besides, he had nothing to wear.

 

Just as he was deciding this, the contents of his closet spread out on his bed, floor, shelves - everywhere, really - his door chimed. 

 

Garak sighed, picking his way carefully through the self-made mess to enter the main part of his quarters.  _ Now, who could that be? A customer with an emergency? _ “Enter.”

 

Constable Odo walked into the room with his arms behind his back. He took one look at Garak and snorted. “I figured as much.”

 

Garak let his eye ridges rise and painted on a smile. “Constable! What a surprise - to what do I owe the honor?”

 

Odo crossed his arms. “Shouldn’t you be on the Promenade, on your way to your date with Doctor Bashir?”

 

Garak felt the twitch at the corner of his mouth, but kept it from turning into a frown. “Ah, yes of course - the time must have gotten away from me. I’ll simply have to reschedule - there’s no way I could be prepared for such a momentous occasion in such a short time.”

 

The Changeling nodded, but his expression was knowing - he didn’t buy it. 

 

_ I seriously need to rethink this friendship _ , the Cardassian thought.

 

“You aren’t rescheduling, Garak.”

 

The tailor leaned back, tilting his head. “I’m not?”

 

Odo shook his head. His tone was the one he used with the stations ne’er-do-wells - one that brooked no argument. “No, you’re not. You’re going on your date with Doctor Bashir - tonight.”

 

Garak clasped his hands over his torso, eyes wide. “And what, Constable, has given you that impression?”

 

“Because I’m going to ensure you do - even if it means dragging you there myself.”

 

The Cardassian opened his mouth, then closed it in surprise. He carefully regarded the Constable, trying to determine his sincerity - not that it was every difficult to judge the Changeling’s sincerity. He pursed his lips. “I had no idea you’d such an interest in my love life, Odo.”

 

The Constable took in a breath, but then his expression softened around the edges. “Let’s just say that… I know what it’s like, to… care deeply for someone without having them return it. And I… I don’t want to see a friend in the same situation.”

 

Garak watched the Changeling for a few more moments.  _ Ah, Major Kira. _ Finally, he sighed, and waved a hand. “I haven’t a thing to wear.” It was his last, flimsy excuse.

 

Odo snorted in disbelief. “Garak, you’re a  _ tailor _ . Besides, I’m sure Doctor Bashir isn’t all that interested in what you  _ wear _ .”

 

Garak waved a finger admonishingly, walking around the room. It was unlike him to pace, but he felt better in motion. “He may not be, but  _ I _ am. You don’t understand, Constable - clothing is a  _ statement _ . It reveals so much about a person - their profession, how much they care for personal appearance, how much - or little - they care for an event…”

 

“Then what is it you want to  _ say _ to Doctor Bashir, Garak?” Odo huffed in exasperation, no doubt thinking something about hominids and their odd rituals. 

 

Garak sighed. “That’s just the thing - I don’t  _ know _ what I want to say.”

 

Odo tilted his head - his equivalent of an arched brow. “ _ You _ , at a loss for words? Maybe you should take your date to the infirmary - you must be ill.”

 

The tailor frowned at the Changeling. “Thank you for that  _ delightful _ insight, constable - it has been  _ most _ helpful.”

 

“Don’t snipe at me, Garak - I’m not the one overcomplicating things.”

 

Garak’s eye ridges rose as he scoffed. “Overcomplicating? Odo, really, this is an important event - a first date can set the tone for an entire relationship!”

 

Odo rolled his eyes. “You two have had a relationship for three years - I think the tone has been set.”

 

Garak waved a hand and sighed despairingly. “Meeting as friends over lunch is not the same as a  _ romantic _ relationship, constable. I must make the right impression.”  _ I have to convince Julian that continuing this relationship is a good idea. _

 

The constable sighed, then turned thoughtful. “Well, then why don’t you wear something that says ‘I like you’.”

 

Garak scoffed, then reconsidered. He drummed his fingers against his thigh. It was a simple enough sentiment, and it did get the important bits across without being  _ too _ revealing… “You may be onto something, constable.”

 

Odo snorted. “Then I suggest you make your choice soon, Garak - time is running out.”

 

Garak nodded, and stepped quickly back into his room. Yes, now that he thought of it, he  _ did _ have an outfit that could convey that kind of message…

 

* * *

 

Julian chewed on the corner of a fingernail as he waited in Quark’s. “He’s late.”

 

Jadzia rolled her eyes. “Julian, relax. It’s only been five minutes.”

 

The doctor huffed a sigh. “I know, but…”

 

“Julian.” The Trill made sure her friend was looking her in the eye before continuing. “Calm down - I’m sure he’s just as nervous as you are.”

 

The doctor laughed. “Garak?  _ Nervous? _ Jadzia, have you met the man?”

 

The Trill arched a brow. “ _ Everyone _ gets nervous.”

 

Julian was about to reply, but then stopped as he saw Garak walking into the bar. He smiled in relief, eyes darting up and down to take in the red and gold outfit cut with geometric patterns in a most Cardassian way. While he didn’t know as much as clothing as the Cardassian tailor, even he could tell it was an outfit meant to impress. 

 

Garak caught the doctor’s attention at almost the same time, and swallowed around a dry throat. He felt suddenly underdressed, taking in the white silk dress shirt and black slacks - simple, but masterful in the fit. The man looked stunning - and he could see he had Jadzia to thank, the Trill smiling as she caught sight of him. 

 

From behind, Odo cleared his throat.

 

The sound propelled Garak forward, the tailor putting on a smile as he approached. “My dear, do forgive me for running late - I had a bit of a fashion emergency.”

 

Odo scoffed and rolled his eyes, but said nothing. He stayed back a bit, trying (and failing) to look as if he had come into the bar at the same time as the Cardassian by coincidence rather than design.

 

Julian smiled. “Well, if it was an emergency, I suppose I can forgive it.”

 

Jadzia shook her head, and stepped away to give them some privacy - enough to stand next to the constable, within earshot.

 

Garak looked at the pair pretending to look away, and shook his head. He spoke in a low murmur. “It seems our chaperones are convinced we need to be held by the hand.”

 

Julian chuckled, sneaking a glance at the two himself. “Try to think of it more as ‘moral support’.”

 

Garak arched his brows, leaning in conspiratorially. “Why, do they believe we intend to infringe upon each other’s virtue?”

 

Jadzia snorted, and muttered almost to herself. “I hope so - three years is a long time for foreplay.”

 

Odo glanced at the Trill in mildly scandalized surprise. 

 

Julian rolled his eyes. “Come on - I think I can do without the audience, how about you?” 

 

Garak smiled and held out a hand to indicate that Julian should lead the way.

 

The doctor did so, heading up the stairs to the holosuite. 

 

Jadzia tracked the pair with her eyes. “So, how nervous was he?”

 

Odo scoffed. “I have no idea what you mean.”

 

The Trill snorted. “Julian was nearly late himself, fixing his hair  _ just _ right.”

 

The Changeling glanced at his companion, then looked away. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you hominids seem to put a lot of emphasis on ridiculous things.”

 

Jadzia arched a brow. “Oh?”

 

Odo nodded, crossing his arms. “Yes - what does your  _ hair _ , or your  _ clothes _ , what do they  _ matter _ when you already know you care for someone?”

 

The Trill laughed. “You’re right, Odo. They really are ridiculous.”

 

The Constable rose his brows as if to say  _ I know, I just said so _ .

 

* * *

 

“Doctor, if you were simply going to take me to a restaurant, we could have stayed on the Promenade.” Garak eyed the room with a raised eye ridge. 

 

Julian smiled, leading the way to an empty table near the center of the room. “I know - but I thought, for a first date, this would be more… private. Less curious eyes.”

 

The Cardassian considered this for a moment, then nodded. It made sense - though Garak had a niggling suspicion the doctor simply didn’t want to be seen with him.  _ Stop it, Elim, you’re just being paranoid. _

 

The doctor pulled out a chair for the tailor.

 

Garak smiled, giving the human an amused look as he allowed the doctor to push the chair in for him. 

 

Julian smiled as he sat across from him. “Besides, this first time, I want you all to myself. Terribly selfish, I know.”

 

Garak raised his eye ridges, the niggling sense of doubt fading. “Unbelievably so. My dear, I thought doctors were supposed to be  _ selfless _ .”

 

The doctor chuckled. “I’ve been told my bedside manner can be lacking - at least, in the infirmary.”

 

Garak could feel his scales flush as his companion’s voice dropped to a purr. He took the glass that had already been on the table, and took a sip to give himself a moment to think. He was pleased to find it was filled with kanar - the good doctor’s work once again, no doubt. “I’m afraid I must agree with that assessment, my dear doctor. You can be rather  _ forceful _ with your treatments.”

 

Julian picked up his own drink - holding the glass gave his hands something to do. “Only with you, my dear tailor.”

 

“I don’t know whether to be elated or offended.”

 

The doctor arched a brow. “If you made it easier, I wouldn’t need to be so  _ forceful _ .”

 

Garak’s eyes danced, and he took another sip of kanar before answering. “If I made it easier, would you be half as interested?”

 

Julian found himself smiling. “Maybe, maybe not - though I will admit I do enjoy the challenge.”

 

“Ah, I see. So I should strive to be an abysmal date, so you might be  _ challenged _ to improve the evening?”

 

Julian’s smile softened. When he spoke, it was soft. “I’d rather you enjoyed the evening.”

 

_ I really need to form a defense against those eyes _ , the tailor thought. He opened his mouth to reply - 

 

-when the holosuite began to flicker.

 

The pair stood up, looking around as the simulation flickered and died. 

 

Julian frowned. “That wasn’t supposed to happen.”

 

Garak arched an eye ridge at him. “I should hope not, my dear.”

 

The pair exited the holosuite to find two Klingons fighting in the hall - and a rather sizable dent in the wall where the holosuite controls would be. Julian sighed, scratching the back of his neck as he looked at Garak. “It looks like you’ll get that date on the Promenade after all, Garak.” 

 

The Cardassian smiled wryly. “It would certainly seem that way.”

 

They immediately ruled out Quark’s - too loud, too many people, and not nearly romantic enough. The Klingon restaurant was out because neither of them particularly cared for Klingon food. The Bajoran restaurant was out because Garak did not care for Bajoran food ( _ “If I wished to eat hasparat, my dear, I would be dating a Bajoran” _ ). The Bolian restaurant was undergoing renovations - which left the Vulcan restaurant. 

 

They waited twenty minutes to be seated, though they were given menus while in line to speed up the ordering process - Vulcan practicality at its finest. 

 

“Well, I’m not sure I would call it  _ romantic… _ ” Julian looked around the very basic, white washed furnishings and decorations. He half smiled at Garak apologetically.

 

The Cardassian returned the expression. “My dear, I hardly expect you to be precognizant - this is quite alright.”

 

Julian smiled, but it was strained. “Still, I wish things could have gone… smoother.”

 

Garak took a breath, then leaned forward to place a hand over his date’s on the table. He tried to ignore the looks the Bajoran and human patrons were giving them, understanding now Julian’s earlier concern. “It’s fine - besides, I’m finding the view to be rather spectacular.”

 

The doctor’s brow furrowed in confusion, then cleared as he smiled in realization. He turned over the hand under Garak’s, giving the Cardassian’s hand a gentle squeeze. “I see - you only agreed to this date to get me to look pretty for you.”

 

Garak smiled. “Doctor, if I left it up to  _ you _ to ‘look pretty’, I’m afraid I would be vastly disappointed.” He considered taking his hand back, but found he was enjoying the warmth and softness of the doctor’s palm.  _ Sentiment will be the end of you someday. _

 

Julian snorted, fingers extending to stroke the tailor’s wrist - a direct contrast to his indignant tone. “Back to insulting my taste in fashion?”

 

“You’d have to have a fashion sense for me to insult it, my dear.”

 

Julian shook his head, but seemed to relax under the familiar banter. He liked the feel of Garak’s skin - unlike humans, the Cardassian’s wrist was ringed with small scales. Julian traced their patterns idly. 

 

Garak could feel the soft skin of the doctor’s wrist beneath his fingertips, but hesitated to purposefully stroke the location. It was a harmless enough gesture - even by Cardassian standards - but it felt oddly… intimate. 

 

Before the tailor could make up his mind either way, a Vulcan server brought their food. She set the plates down once they had both sat back - vegetable dishes of muted colors, though the presentation was neat. 

 

“Have you had Vulcan food before?” Julian started in on his dish sedately, purposefully slowing down his usual zeal. 

 

Garak took note of the effort, and smiled. “I’m afraid not - the closest I came to Vulcan was when I was a gardener on Romulus, and - well…” He raised his eye ridges and let the doctor fill in the blanks.

 

Julian smiled. “You mentioned being a gardener before.”

 

“I did.”

 

“Did you enjoy it? Gardening, I mean.”

 

Garak tilted his head. “I couldn’t imagine what else you  _ could _ mean, my dear. And yes, I did - there is something most enjoyable about being able to make plants grow.”

 

The doctor nodded. “I wish I could say I knew - I have a bit of a black thumb.”

 

“A what?”

 

“Human expression - when a person has a ‘green thumb’, it means they’re very good at getting plants to grow; when they have a ‘black thumb’, they’re very good at  _ not _ getting plants to grow.”

 

“How very unfortunate - though I find it hard to believe a man of your considerable talents struggles with such a simple task as raising a plant.”

 

Julian chuckled. “Perhaps you’ll have to teach me, then.”

 

“My dear, I look forward to it.”

 

Naturally, that was when Julian’s nurses burst into the restaurant. She spied the pair and ran over, practically throwing herself onto the table and nearly knocking it over - it was saved by Garak’s quick reactions.

 

“Doctor Bashir-” She gasped in a breath. “-there was a shuttle accident, and-” Another breath. “-and several people are coming in with - with critical injuries-”

 

“I understand.” Julian was already on his feet. He shot an apologetic look to his companion. “Garak-”

 

The Cardassian waved him off. “I understand, doctor. Please, don’t worry about me.”

 

Julian smiled apologetically once more, than took off, nurse on his heels. 

 

Garak sighed, watching them leave.  _ Well, of course something would happen - what did you expect to happen? _

 

“You are Garak, the tailor.” One of the Vulcan waitresses walked up to his table. She had black hair cut in an angled bob at her chin, and straight bangs to match. 

 

“I don’t believe we’ve met.” The Cardassian gave the woman an up and down glance - she didn’t appear very threatening. But, then again, neither did he.

 

“We have not.” The woman tilted her head at the abandoned seat.

 

Garak considered, then sighed and nodded.

 

The Vulcan sat. “I am T’Zantha - you know my wife, Macha.”

 

“Ah, yes - pleased to make your acquaintance.” The Bolian book seller’s wife.

 

The Vulcan blinked. “As we have spoken little, I cannot imagine that to be a wholly true statement - however, rumors have told me that you are not known for being entirely truthful.”

 

Garak arched his eye ridges in surprise.

 

T’Zantha bowed her head. “I understand that you may see my intrusion as unwelcome - I am a professor of sociology, and therefor aware of the cultural norms of a variety of species. If you wish for me to leave, I will remove myself.”

 

The tailor leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “First, I’d like to know why you came to sit with me if you thought you might be intruding.”

 

The Vulcan nodded. “As I said, I am a professor of sociology. While I am aware that my presence may be intrusive, I am also aware that many people can feel isolated after being abandoned by a date - whether their reasons are logical or not. And that this isolation can also lead to embarrassment. Macha is fond of you, therefor I decided to offer you company until Doctor Bashir returned.”

 

Garak nodded, smiling in surprise. “I was not aware your partner was fond of me - we do little more than exchange pleasantries on occasion.”

 

T’Zantha nodded once again. “This is true - however, my wife believes you are lonely. She has spoken at length on the subject, and was very pleased when you and Doctor Bashir initiated a relationship. She would be upset if something were to damage that relationship beyond repair.”

 

The Cardassian tiled his head. “Well, in that case, I would happily welcome your company. I have never seen an upset Bolian - I fear the repercussions of such an event.”

 

T’Zantha tilted her head. “This is a joke, exaggerating the joyful reputation of the Bolian people to say that a Bolian who was not cheerful could bring about catastrophe.”

 

“Correct.”

 

The Vulcan nodded. “Are you often given to jokes, Garak?”

 

“I have been known to tell a few.”

 

The woman nodded again. “I shall keep that information in mind in future interactions. Would you consider the nature of your jokes to be more ‘high’ or ‘low’ brow?”

 

Garak paused to try his drink - Vulcan brandy. It wasn’t kanar, but it was better than springwine. “I employ mainly sarcasm in observation of current events, though I do believe I manage to avoid the gutter for the most part.”

 

T’Zantha nodded once more - as if physically adding checks to some kind of mental list. “I should like to interact more, if possible. I do not associate with many sarcastic individuals.”

 

_ That you know of _ . Garak merely smiled. “You’re welcome to stop by my shop at any time.”

 

“Do you stock any clothing of Vulcan design?”

 

“Currently no - but if I were to have more Vulcan customers…”

 

* * *

 

By the time Julian finished with surgery and changed into a new outfit - the old one had ended up under his scrubs and soaked with sweat - the Vulcan restaurant was closed. 

 

The doctor stopped outside of the restaurant and sighed.  _ So much for a perfect first date _ .

 

“Excuse me, Doctor Bashir.”

 

Julian turned to see a Vulcan woman. “Yes?”

 

The woman inclined her head. “Garak asked me to tell you that there was no need to worry about your date, and he understands that you needed to help your patients.”

 

The doctor sighed, scratching the back of his neck. “Ah, I see. Thank you… ?”

 

“T’Zantha.” The Vulcan regarded him for a few moments. “I also believe he mentioned going to his shop to do inventory.”

 

The doctor blinked, then straightened. “Thank you, T’Zantha. I think I should…” He turned, intending to go to the Cardassian’s shop, then paused. “Actually…”

 

The Vulcan woman tilted her head as the doctor turned back to her.

  
  


Garak paused as he heard a knock. He waited, and when it came again, he stepped out of the back room to see who was at his door. He smiled.

 

Julian grinned back at him, a bottle in one hand and a basket tucked into the crook of his elbow.

 

Garak unlocked the door, letting the doctor in. “My dear, you must be exhausted.”

 

“Completely.” Julian admitted. He looked across the shop for a moment, then shrugged and sat in the middle of the floor, back to the display table. “But I promised you dinner on our fist date.”

 

Garak smiled in bemusement, joining the doctor on the floor. “Which you have provided twice now.”

 

“Third time’s the charm?” Julian tilted his head to look at the tailor through his lashes. 

 

The Cardassian hummed in approval. “If you fall asleep, I’m going to leave you on the floor.”

 

“You’re such a romantic.” Julian chuckled, setting out the simple fare T’Zantha had been kind enough to provide, and pouring them both a glass of Vulcan brandy. “I don’t know how I’ll handle you fawning over me like this all the time.”

 

Garak smiled, picking up his glass. “Well, I simply can’t help it in such an  _ intimate _ environment.” He waved his free hand to take in the darkened tailor shop, though the flowers still hanging from the ceiling did add a touch of scenery.

 

Julian held his glass up in a brief toast. “To romance and intimacy.”

 

Garak smiled wryly, and rose his own glass slightly in acknowledgment. “To a perfect evening.”

 

The doctor tilted his head, a slow smile spreading across his face. “You know, I think it just might be.”

 

Garak arched an eye ridge. “Oh?”

 

“Yes - from where I’m sitting, the view is spectacular.”

 

The tailor couldn’t help it - he laughed. “Using my words again, my dear doctor?”

 

“Yes, but I must say I’m glad I didn’t have to shoot you first this time.” Julian took a sip of his brandy, still smiling. “You know, I don’t know why I was worried about tonight.”

 

“Really?”

 

The doctor nodded, eyelids beginning to droop - he really was exhausted. “Any night with you, my dear tailor, is certain to be perfect - even if it’s spent eating Vulcan food on the floor of your shop instead of having a romantic dinner in the holosuite.”

 

Garak consider this, then slowly set down his glass. He moved from where he was to crouch next to the doctor.

 

Julian watched him, blinking away the tiredness in his eyes. 

 

The Cardassian carefully cupped the human’s face, and pressed their lips together in a gentle kiss.

 

Julian felt warmth pooling in the pit of his stomach - and he knew it wasn’t from the brandy. He closed his eyes, leaning into the kiss - he didn’t try to rush it along, simply enjoying the touch of the Cardassian’s cool lips against his. 

 

Garak pulled back, and sat down against the doctor’s side. He gently pulled the man against him. 

 

Julian found himself gingerly resting his head on Garak’s shoulder - then sinking into the movement as he wasn’t rebuffed. 

 

Both leaned back against the display table, letting it take their weight. They sat in companionable silence, Julian nursing his brandy - until Garak summarily removed it and set it aside when the human hadn’t drank from it in some time. 

 

It was just as the doctor was drifting off that the tailor spoke. 

 

“I wasn’t kidding about leaving you on the floor, my dear - but I never said I would leave you here alone.”

 

Julian felt his lips spread in a smile. “My dear tailor, I would rather sleep on the floor with you than in the bed of a king by myself.”

 

Garak rolled his eyes. “Hyperbole aside, your back is going to disagree with you in the morning.”

 

The doctor hummed in agreement, moving fractionally closer to the Cardassian.

 

Garak hesitated, then wrapped an arm around Julian’s waist. He brushed the young man’s hair back with his free hand, and turned to press a soft kiss to his temple. 

 

Julian garnered enough energy to turn an capture the tailor’s lips in a brief kiss, then settled against him again.

 

The Cardassian snorted, then spoke in a whisper. “Go to sleep, Julian.”

 

The doctor hummed contently, and did just that.

 

* * *

 

“Commander Dax.”

 

“Constable Odo.” The Trill smiled, having a decent guess to what the constable wanted to know. “How can I help you?”

 

The Changeling fell into step, causing the pair to walk along the Promenade. “Have you heard anything from Doctor Bashir or Garak?”

 

Jadzia tapped her chin thoughtfully, but her eyes gleamed with mischief. “Well, I heard there was a fight at Quark’s that damaged the holosuite…”

 

“Yes, the ‘combatants’ are cells as we speak.”

 

The Trill nodded. “And then I heard that they went to the Vulcan restaurant…”

 

“Before the doctor was called away on an emergency, yes. I meant have you spoken with him about it.”

 

“Not yet.”

 

Odo squinted at the woman. “Then why do you look so pleased?”

 

The Trill chuckled. “Must be my natural good nature.”

 

The constable huffed. “Dax…”

 

The woman laughed, waving a hand. “Alright, alright - come on, let’s see if they’re still there.”

 

Odod tilted his head as he followed - until he found himself outside of Garak’s Clothiers.

 

Jadzia peeked into the glass doors, then smiled and nodded. She stepped aside and waved Odo forward.

 

The constable stepped forward, and peered inside himself.

 

Julian and Garak sat facing each other on the floor, animatedly discussing something while eating breakfast. Both were in their clothes from last night, but neither seemed to care at the moment.

 

Odo  _ hurrumphed _ , and stepped back. 

 

“Humanoids.” Jadzia shook her head, expression stern. 

 

Odo tilted his head back, then turned and headed back onto the Promenade. “Indeed.”

 

Jadzia chuckled and looked after him. She glanced back at the shop, then smiled and went on with her own business.

 

Inside the shop, the pair argued amiably - forgetting, for the moment, that the rest of the world existed.

  
Later, when Julian described his first date with Garak to a rather reluctant Chief O’Brien, the only word he could think to encompass everything was ‘perfect’.

**Author's Note:**

> I know not everyone is a fan of OCs, and I literally created Macha and T'Zantha on the spot in The Delicate Nature of Attraction. They'll probably have a few more appearances, but I'm going to stick to having them show up when it helps move the plot along. If I want to do anything more with them, I'll make a separate fic. (Given I've been fleshing out their backstories in my head, it's likely I will do more with them at some point.)
> 
> Also, I needed to give Garak moral support and Jadzia was already taken - and then I remembered Odo.


End file.
